


Imposter

by LezBlowShitUp



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cohabitation, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fade Sex, Fade to Black, Fluff, Hinata is smoking out an alien imposter, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kageyama is stressing the fuck out, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned MSBY BJ and Adlers, Mentioned Oikawa Tooru, Neurodivergent Kageyama, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Volleyball Dorks in Love, gratuitous descriptions of sleeping patterns, hints to somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LezBlowShitUp/pseuds/LezBlowShitUp
Summary: An imposter has body-snatched Kageyama. Hinata can say almost for sure that the man next to him when he woke up this morning—who could barely drag himself the two meters from the bed to the kitchen table of their one-room apartment, who’s picking at his rice porridge—is not his boyfriend.So Hinata has a roll of duct tape, a butcher knife, and a boyfriend to save.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 19
Kudos: 194





	Imposter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolavi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolavi/gifts).



> Inspired, with permission, by [chocolavi’s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolavi/works) Twitter  
> [thread](https://twitter.com/chocolavi_/status/1299035413797933056). I started writing this drabble with the best of intentions. I don’t know how it turned out so different from the thread.
> 
> A million THANK YOUs to [deadcliche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcliche/works) for reading through this at all different stages and cheering me on! Also, thank you [IshidaTobio ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IshidaTobio/pseuds/IshidaTobio/works) for all your lovely, detailed feedback. You had me smiling like crazy. Both of you gave me the confidence to say this thing was good enough to go up<3
> 
> Anyway, this story is a written representation of the chaos that is my subconscious. I have no further explanations.

**Shouyou**

An imposter has body-snatched Tobio. 

It’s like that movie I watched with Oikawa on his laptop, where the alien lived like a sleeper agent inside the guy’s skin. There’s no other explanation for how off Tobio's been acting lately!

It's hard to say exactly when the snatching happened cause he's been changing bit by bit. But I can say _almost_ for sure that the man next to me when I woke up this morning—who could barely drag himself the two meters from the bed to the kitchen table of our one-room apartment, who’s picking at his rice porridge—is not my boyfriend. Almost. 

The apartment is still dim this early in the morning. And kinda cluttered—which is maybe my fault for not putting things away, but mostly not since everything in here is junk and looks cluttered even when we’ve cleaned it up. All of Tobio’s furniture is like a tiny, temporary version of what it's supposed to be—this little folding table, the teeny weeny cardboard couch, and a bed that’s way too narrow for two people. Even the fridge is too small—sorta skinny and shorter than normal. (That one sucks cause we have to go shopping twice a week with how much we have to eat.)

Tobio is like a giant in this place. He’s so big, the tops of his knees knock the underside of the folding table. One wrong move and he could tip the whole thing over.

And he looks too worn out to be as careful as usual, so that might be an actual threat. 

The little bit of light stripe-ing through the blinds is shading spooky lines over Tobio’s face as he stares down at his porridge like, somehow, it might just poof directly into his stomach without any effort. 

Technically, he could’ve slept in today. We both could have now that we’re in our off-season. But the gym opens at eight, and we’re always the first ones in. Besides, Tobio never had trouble waking up early until recently.

Leaning over my bowl, I pour myself a cup of tea—coffee for Tobio—level him in a real casual look (can’t have the alien getting suspicious), and say, "You're pretty sleepy, huh?"

He grunts and buries his nose into the coffee. (Well, if you can call it that. Two-thirds milk, one-third actual coffee. Just how Tobio likes it.) (Mostly, I think it's an excuse for him to drink warm milk like a baby.)

Here's the thing, Tobio is so particular about his sleep schedule you'd think he'd have to pull all his stupid glossy black hair out if he didn't get exactly eight hours. Well, I almost did, anyway, the first time he ranted at me about how unhealthy it was for my body to not get up at the same time every day. And, believe me, he meant _every day._ Even weekends! 

Not anymore. Since the V-League season ended in April and I moved into his apartment in Tokyo, it’s like Tobio's been copying my patterns—staying up late, sleeping in. It’s _weird!_

I can't act rash, though. Whatever this alien is after—taking over the world so they can eat all the pork buns or whatever—I’ve got to make sure Tobio will be alright once the imposter leaves his body.

In the movie with Oikawa, the alien had to be melted out of the guy with the water from its home planet (like how kryptonite is the only thing that steals Superman’s powers). I’ve got no clue how to get my hands on something like that (Otamart, maybe?)—but, more importantly, there's a chance I could be wrong.

Tobio still hasn’t touched the dish of dried anchovies I set in the middle of the table. That's the same as ever. _My_ Tobio says those are like the bugs of the ocean. You see how confusing this is? How am I supposed to know for sure?

The scrape of his spoon against the bottom of his bowl sends a _schripp_ up my spine, and I sit right up as he finally puts some of the porridge in his mouth. What if he really is buried in there, stuck, behind the alien’s mind, not able to talk to me? Not able to ask for help...

I can’t just leave him alone like that. It’s my job to figure out how to save him.

Really, I've got no choice—I've got to test him.

**Tobio**

Shouyou has been staring at me for the last ten minutes, and I’m starting to think he might be stroking. 

My head feels as thick as this bowl of rice porridge. It’s warm in my stomach in a way that only makes me want to crawl back into bed.

The washing machine is beating, not a meter away, where it’s lodged under the kitchen counter, some loud-ass birds are cooing in the nest outside, just taunting me because I can’t get rid of them since our windows don’t open enough for me to reach the nest, and the pipes are groaning from some salaryman filling his sink in the apartment on the other side of our kitchen wall. I hate this place. 

Or maybe I just hate apartments—boxes stacked on boxes, living like a pet in one of those window cage displays where you can hear everything happening around you night and day. But it’s better than staying at the Adler dorms where Hoshiumi can pound my door down whenever he wants.

Besides, I usually sleep better than this, so it’s not really the apartment’s fault. 

Shouyou is clearing his side of the table, and I still haven’t even made it half-way through my breakfast.

Before he moved in with me, I never had trouble sleeping through the night. I'd pass out at the end of the day and wake up when my phone alarm started to buzz. I had it so down to a routine—six am every day, tuned like a clock—my body just knew when it was time to get up.

I’ve always been like that, and I figured I always would be. 

_Oh_ , was I wrong.

“Maybe you should go to bed earlier, huh?” Shouyou says as he dumps his empty bowl into the sink. (He cooked, so I’ll clean. Fair is fair.)

I nod, too groggy to even bother grumbling over the obvious. As if I could get away with something like that when all he ever wants to do is watch one more episode of whatever show, one more movie, have one more midnight snack before hitting the sack.

That’s not even the worst of it either. 

Sleeping with Shouyou is like sleeping with an angry koala. He’s all over me at night—clinging, fighting me to be the big spoon, strapping himself to my back like a bomb that could go off at any point, and breathing sticky patches into the back of my t-shirt.

Sleeping on our _own_ sides is out of the question. I tried. 

With Shouyou, the only approved snooze spot is right in the middle of the bed. Even better for him if he can hog most of my pillow. 

Once, I woke up with his heel in my face and one of his arms wrapped around my leg like I was a giant stuffed animal. Don't ask me how he managed to twist upside down while he was unconscious. Only idiots can pull off those kinds of moves. 

He’s messing around with something behind me by the bed, shifting fabric. Laundry? Everything in my apartment is all in one room. It’s small, but Shouyou’s place is worse. (He makes a little less right now, so during volleyball season, he lives in the team housing in Osaka to save money.)

There’s a creak of some furniture Shouyou has got to be moving, and a bite of panic ices through me.

I’m up in a second, spinning around to stop him from–

He only just shoved the chair back under the desk where it belongs.

It’s fine. I breathe out. 

Thank Molten and Mikasa and every shining curve on a volleyball because, no matter what, I can’t let him look under the bed.

**Shouyou**

Tobio never wakes up during the night. 

Or at least he didn't until three weeks ago when I came back from a run to the bathroom and found him sitting up squinting at me from the bed in the corner of the room. I thought it was a fluke. After all, I bumped into the desk chair, gauged my knee on the corner of our teeny tiny ‘couch’(Seriously, Tobio needs to invest in some better furniture. He can afford it, he’s just too stingy.) Anyway, I was probably too loud, right?

Wrong.

If it was a fluke, I could have ignored it, but then two days later, I had this dream that I got stranded in a desert with nothing to drink but cactus juice, and I woke up so thirsty my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth.

But I remembered to keep quiet! 

I was so _so_ careful, squirming out of bed, tiptoeing across the room, quieter than the Naruto Hinata. I didn't even chug my glass of water from the kitchen. That's how careful I was!

I _thought_ I'd done it—made it through operation Don't Wake Tobio No Matter The Cost. Except, when I wiggled under the covers, he reached out to pull me back against his chest. Awake. For the second time.

You know what they say—three times the charm. One more wake up, and something is off for sure.

**Tobio**

A warm brushing sensation teases me out from an anxious dream where I’m holding a box with a question I can’t ask lodged in my throat...

Our room is a blurry blue-purple from the light filtering through the window. It's barely morning out, and Shouyou is nosing at the band of my boxers, headed down, just inhaling.

I rub my eyes, trying to clear the fog from my head, and figure out what's going on. My body knows, though. One part of me is already up.

We’ve got a list somewhere—all the things we never wanna do (DON’Ts are easier than DOs). Shouyou had me rack my brain when we first started messing around. I've got his part of the list memorized, and he’s got mine. Sleep stuff isn’t on either.

If I tell him no, he’ll listen. Times like that, we pay attention. But I don't tell him no.

He stops anyway, as soon as our eyes meet. “Too loud?” 

“Huh?” We live on the fifteenth floor, so there are always sounds all around—wind sweeping past the side of the building, water trickling down the gutters, and shuffling from the apartments all around us. 

“Was I too loud?"

I squint down at him. He's nuzzling me in my boxers at the crack of dawn, and being loud is the thing he thinks is off here? "I dunno. No."

Shouyou’s bottom lip pinches up. "What about other nights? Have I been too noisy?” 

"You snore." It’s not the nice kind of snoring some people do that’s all even and peaceful—human white noise machines. Nah, Shouyou snores like a happy birthday balloon emptying itself out only for someone to blow it right back up and empty it again. Over and over.

Shouyou glares at me, nostrils sucking in with a huff as he kicks off the blankets and disappears into the bathroom at the other end of the apartment.

Figures, he doesn't care.

Maybe if I hadn't woken up, he’d have kept going—nosing, nuzzling... I kinda hope he tries it again sometime. 

**Shouyou**

Tobio used to sleep shirtless. Of all the stuff that’s changed about the way he sleeps, I miss this one the most. 

The first things I used to see every morning were the round tops of his shoulders, the straight lines of his collarbones—all his skin bundled up in our white blankets—and his soft sleepy face smooshed in the pillow.

This morning, I get zip, nada, nothing. 

Tobio wore a long sleeve shirt to bed, and he’s still wearing it now as he stuffs the washing machine under the kitchen counter with the bed sheets he literally just cleaned yesterday. And sure, yeah, he looks unfair-good in anything. But can someone please explain to me what aliens have against sleeping without shirts?

Is it a body temperature thing? Will they die if they get too cold?

I’m an hour into my upper-body routine at the gym, chin pressed to my pull up bar, holding myself in position to the count of ten when a plan hits me, and I almost forget to hold on and fall. 

But that doesn't matter cause I know exactly what to do.

Before bed, as Tobio changes into pajamas, I slip in close, smoothing my hands down his chest and stomach. Fingering the hem of his shirt, I glance up at him through my lashes. (He's so easy—freezes every time I do this.)

“You don't need a shirt, right?"

Which he takes as an invitation to tug it over his head and swoop down to catch my lips between his.

Actually, I take it all back. This must be a big mistake. Only Tobio does that thing with his tongue, and he’s cupping my face, rubbing his thumb over that _oh my god_ spot behind my ear that feels so good it’s hard to keep my eyes open. This has got to be him.

Later, I'm lying naked and draped over Tobio’s chest with a line of sweat cooling down the small of my back. Everything about Tobio is still except for the puff of his breath against my forehead.

Mission accomplished. I feel amazing. Like I’m jello, and he's the bowl, and I can just lie here and mold against him and forget anything else.

He didn't need the shirt, after all. What was I so worried about? 

Then Tobio breaks away for a half-second to lean over the side of the bed, grabbing something from off the floor. 

The shirt.

He slips his arms into it and pulls it down his front before snuggling back in with me. 

Suddenly, I'm a whole lot less relaxed.

**Tobio**

It's a million degrees under the blankets, but I cuddle up against Shouyou anyway. Not like there's any point in resisting. Like I said, he'll drape himself over me the minute he passes out whether I want it or not, and I'll get all hot anyway. 

I can already feel pricks of sweat dampening the back of my shirt. 

This happens every night. Shouyou falls asleep, and his body heats right up. His skin tinges pink, and even in the dim light, the slight change in color glows. The warm flush starts right under his bangs and sweeps to his cheeks and ears and down his neck to his chest. 

If he were a chicken, our bed would be one of those hot boxes for baby eggs. Or maybe the bed is like an outlet he’s plugging into, and his body works like a rechargeable battery. (Look at that, I finally figured out his secret for unlimited energy.)

Our first weeks together were hell. Before he moved into this apartment, any nights he spent over here or I spent over his place weren't focused on _actual sleep_. Little did I know what he had in store for me—sweating my ass off every night only to have a chill from the ceiling fan keep me awake by tickling my over-sticky sensitive skin. 

But, I guess, somewhere along the line, my brain got all twisted. Like being hot as the center of the sun is just a sign that Shouyou is somewhere close—so now I just wear a shirt to defend myself from getting harassed by the ceiling fan. 

Besides… it kinda feels good. Sweating so much from all Shouyou’s heat is a bit like a sauna or something. I feel cleared out in the mornings. 

Shit, I don't really get it, but sleeping in the cold gives me bad dreams these days.

Our sheets do get gross, though. And the laundry is a nightmare to keep up with. 

It’s no big deal, as long as I make sure to be the one who washes everything. I don’t want him messing around by the bed. All it would take is him sticking his head under and–

I can’t think about that. Everything is gonna be fine. He’s not going to find it.

**Shouyou**

It happens in the middle of the night. The real kicker. The thing that makes this impossible to ignore.

Tobio does not move in his sleep. At all.

If I didn’t know better, sleeping next to his corpse-still body would be kinda freaky, actually.

So, when I woke up a couple of minutes ago to a thump on the ceiling, I decided it was time for my last test.

Part of our blanket was tangled at my ankles, and the bed sheets under me were glued to the skin along my side. Tobio was huddled to me—in the center of the bed—curled around my back with his knees tucked into mine.

I lifted his arm carefully by the wrist up over my waist, pulled my legs from his, slowly, slowly—and scooted to the dry stretch of sheets, still cool, at the edge of the bed.

Next thing I knew, he was letting out a muffled grunt and reaching after me.

It wasn’t like the times I’ve woken him up by getting out of bed. The pattern of breath at the base of my neck was the same as he adjusted closer. He was asleep.

Asleep and moving!

This guy, pressed up against my butt, hugging me around my waist like I’m a cat about to leap away, is not my boyfriend. I’m sure of it.

**Tobio**

In the morning, I’m up before Shouyou. It’s not a rare thing.

His thigh is twitching. Shouyou is moving all the time, endlessly, even in his sleep. 

The baby hairs at his temples are swept the wrong way over his forehead, and his mouth is hanging open, not snoring for once—which should be a relief but isn’t.

I want to press my thumb to the indent over his top lip and see what kind of sound he’ll make. 

The tap in the bathroom is dripping. The refrigerator is humming way too loud, working harder now that it’s summer. And this apartment is mostly just a bed, a folding table, a desk, and stacks of free curry mix from my sponsorship (we haven’t bothered to buy much furniture yet)—but it’s not so bad if I get to wake up to Shouyou’s morning breath.

If it weren’t for the box under the bed, chafing at the back of my mind, twisting knots in my shoulders with bad dreams—I could probably say I’ve never been so happy.

**Shouyou**

I’ve got to stay still. The imposter is moving around next to me on the bed. What am I supposed to do in this situation?

I’ve been up (I don’t know how long). It’s a lot brighter out now, glowing orange-brownish on the backs of my eyelids– Is it too late to call in reinforcements? Who would even believe me? 

Bokuto, maybe, but what help would he be? I think Oikawa is the only one with enough killer instinct to make a difference here (And, I mean, he’s always thought Tobio was an alien anyway), but he’s all the way in Argentina. There’s no time for him to fly half-way across the world.

Not when I’ve got an imposter hiding in my boyfriend's skin, sitting up in our blankets actual millimeters from me—waiting to _who knows what_...

**Tobio**

I’m rolling my neck and stretching my arms across my chest to loosen the muscles in my shoulders when I notice it.

The only thing Shouyou’s face ever does when he’s conked out is gape open-mouthed like he’s not willing to risk losing a chance for extra treats just cause he’s unconscious. But, right now, his nose is scrunched as if I just asked him to choose over meat bun fillings... 

Which means this weirdo is pretending to be asleep. Fuck knows why.

I give him a hard poke in the belly button, and he sort of jolts and squirms before cracking his eyes open to dart a glance at his phone. 

What's got him so jumpy?

"Aren't you late for your run?" he asks.

We used to run together every morning until the Black Jackal’s trainer told him to stop to save his knees from the impact. Now he spins on the stationary bike instead. 

But, he’s right, I am late. Last night, I had another one of _those_ dreams and slept in by accident.

Shouyou is leaning up on his elbows, tracking my face where I’ve probably got dark circles. “If you don’t leave now, you won’t have time for breakfast before we head to the gym.”

There’s something off about how his casual tone of voice mixes with the way he’s sizing me up. Almost… suspicious?

For one held breath, I think he knows everything, and he’s just toying with me. That the second I leave, he’s gonna tear the bed apart and find the box.

But that’d be crazy, right? 

He’s not subtle enough to toy with anyone. If he knew anything at all, he’d already be shouting things like, _“What were you thinking? How could you do this to us?”_

So… probably, it’s alright. I hope. When it comes to guessing people's emotions, I can never be sure.

I know I can't keep hiding it like this. At some point soon, I'm gonna have to face up to Shouyou and let him freak out at me. But if that happens, things might never go back to how good we have it together now...

Pulling myself from the bed, I hesitate. Usually, I stick the sheets in the laundry in the morning, but he’s right. I don’t have time for anything else. I’ve got to leave now.

A part of me is clenched tight with fear that Shouyou will do the laundry instead, that he’ll find it, but I tell myself it's safe. He never cleans anything unless he has to.

I have to face him soon, I know. 

Soon—not today.

**Shouyou**

The second the alien leaves, I scramble from the bed. Tobio’s run usually only takes twenty minutes, so I have to move fast! I need a weapon. I’ve gotta trap him and gain myself more time to video chat Oikawa or something. 

The closet by the door doesn’t have anything useful. God, this is taking too long. I’ve got to go faster! Go, go, go– I dig through the cabinet under the sink. Why didn't I ever think to get myself some rope? What are other things I can use for trapping? A belt. Check! We have some of those hung over a metal clothes rack in the corner. Duct tape? I hunt for the roll Tobio used to tape the leg of the desk back to the top when it broke off cause he was too cheap to just buy new furniture—but I don’t even care about that right now because when I close my fingers around the roll at the bottom of the backpack he keeps by the door and pull the duct tape out, all I wanna do is kiss his stupid cheapskate face. Only first, I have to save him!

I dump everything out onto the floor at the center of the apartment. A chair! Right, of course. You’ve gotta have a chair if you’re going to tie an alien down. I push the desk chair out into the center of the room. Now all I need is the weapon. And clothes! Oh my god, I forgot to get dressed after last night! Now my skin is all out and vulnerable—soft parts for aliens to claw into– Footsteps shuffle behind the front door. There’s no time to arm my body! I make a dive for the utensil drawer in the kitchen. Okay, okay, deep breaths, here we go.

The lock turns.

**Tobio**

Shouyou is naked in the entryway, backlit by a glare from the window, and staring me down with the butcher knife in his hand. He looks like a rabid monkey squaring up for his next meal.

“Put that thing away!” Why do we even have a butcher knife? Neither of us has any idea how to butcher anything.

“Close the door,” he demands.

I’m staring. Just… what? What the fuck is going on here? “Shou–”

_“Close it!”_

Jolting a step back, I accidentally click the door into its lock—effectively trapping myself in here with this lunatic.

I’m not even kidding. Shouyou has lost it—red-faced, waving at the chair with the point of his knife. 

Looking like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he started babbling out _ooh ooh_ s and _ee ee_ s.

“Now, walk slowly and sit down.”

I do as he says. With my hands out in front of me in case he decides to suddenly charge, I creep over to the folding chair at the center of the room that’s surrounded by a pile of what’s got to be every belt we own. 

“Sit!”

I sit. He still has that knife pointed at my face. I should’ve known a knife like that was too dangerous to have around him in case of– In case of– What is this exactly?

Shouyou is flushed red from his neck all the way down his chest, where he’s panting, eyes darting wildly over the belts at my ankles.

"What’s wrong with you?”

He’s ignoring me—pacing, pressing his palms to his eyelids.

The cold metal of the chair nips at my exercise-warmed skin. “Are you high or something?”

No response. 

I grip my knees. “Hey! Dumbass, listen to me!”

Nothing. He’s scratching at a roll of duct tape for its seam. Better not be thinking about sticking that on me. I groan and rub my arm over my face. 

Apparently, the duct tape isn’t cooperating cause he’s shoving the roll in his mouth and scraping his teeth over the seam instead. 

What is happening right now? “You’re freaking me out–”

“Me!” he finally answers—voice all muffled around a strip of duct tape that suddenly rips free. “That’s funny,” he spits, not smiling.

“Yeah, _you!_ The fuck is going on here?”

“What’s going on is I know what you’ve been hiding!”

Oh… Nausea swirls up my stomach. Oh no. 

The bed looks untouched—still fitted with a sheet, and one of the pillows is on the floor, blocking what’s underneath. It doesn’t look like he went digging... I swallow. Maybe– Maybe it’s okay? “I don’t understand.”

**Shouyou**

So he’s gonna play it like that, huh? Thinks he can act calm and slip by undetected. Well, he can’t fool me. I’ve got him cornered.

I can do this, I tell myself, gripping the knife tighter and baring my teeth. Tobio is trapped in that scowly panicky body somewhere, and I’m gonna set him free.

“Tell me the truth!” I demand, wielding a stretch of tape in my free hand.

The alien twitches, eyes cutting to the bed.

“I’m talking to you!”

“But, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!” His brows are pinched together into one sharp V, and that isn’t allowed because that’s Tobio’s murder glare, and I’m not gonna let this imposter have it!

**Tobio**

Shouyou shakes his head so hard it’s like he's wringing water out. “Stop lying!”

A spray of his spit hits me in the face.

“I said, tell me everything, or I’ll tie you up and call Oikawa. He’ll know how to make you talk!”

“Excuse me?” The fuck does Oikawa have to do with any of this?

**Shouyou**

My heart is beating in my forehead. I just want this to be over. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how weird you’ve been acting?”

The alien jolts, eyes cutting to the bed again. What the– What’s so flipping interesting about the bed?

**Tobio**

Shouyou’s lips flare out around his teeth as he narrows predatory eyes at me, stalking closer. “You’ve been moving around in your sleep–”

“Like you know anything about the right way to sleep, you animal!”

He lets out a deranged growl. “You’re always awake when I get up for a drink– You wear clothes to bed, and you've–”

“So what?”

**Shouyou**

“ _Soooo, I know!_ You can’t hide it from me!”

The alien's eyes shoot straight back to the bed. Has he got something there? A beacon for his mothership? What if it’s a way to get him out of Tobio’s body? 

That could be it! An emergency release! 

I shout a battle cry and dive for the bed.

The alien dives after me.

Grabbing at my ankles, he knocks me to the floor in a smash. The knife breaks from my grip and spin, spin, spins across the fake wood into the gap under the fridge. 

Struggling from the alien’s grip (I should’ve taped him down! What was I thinking?), I crash into the stack of manga I was using as a nightstand, and it topples over onto me. 

Somehow the duct tape has glued itself into my hair, yanking at my scalp, but I can’t stop—I can’t let him catch me! I have to– I have to make it– I have to save Tobio! 

The alien is clawing up the backs of my calves, and I kick him in the face, squirming on my belly—all elbows and knees—over the floor. 

Almost there! Almost there! In one screaming lurch, I launch myself under the bed!

**Tobio**

No, no, no, no, no– Holy fuck, no!

My nose is bleeding into my mouth. I’m wrestling him down, but he’s like a fucking fish, wriggling out of my grip every time I pin him.

I should’ve found a better hiding spot—above the fridge, the top shelf of that hall closet we don’t use, somewhere high that he couldn't reach. How did I let this happen?

**Shouyou**

I reach with a _grrrrr_ and just manage to hook my fingertips on the edge of some kind of lid. The alien’s hands are clenched around my thighs, but it’s too late—I’ve already got– What is this?

**Tobio**

It’s all over. 

**Shouyou**

A shoebox is such a weird place to keep a homing beacon… But the alien curled around the backs of my legs looks like he’s about to swallow his own stomach, so– “Tell me everything, or I’m opening this!”

He chokes, sobbing an, “I’m sorry,” and brings a shaking hand up to his eyes. “I don't know what I was thinking. It's not like I had any sort of plan.”

“How dare you think you could get away with this without a plan!”

He winces. Good. I’ve got him where I want him.

**Tobio**

Back in April, when I told Miwa Shouyou was gonna move in with me, she sent me two pairs of cufflinks. “For going out,” she said. “To dress up your suits when you eat at nice places.”

As if Shouyou would ever want to eat somewhere we needed suits. He gets twitchy anywhere he can’t wear sneakers. Let alone a place he’d need anything flashy as cufflinks.

The gift receipt was taped to the inside of the wrapping paper, so it wasn't much hassle to take them back to the store—this glittery place with huge glass cases lined with white velvet.

That’s where everything went wrong. I saw them, under the glass, nestled in the velvet—silver, and each with a twist at the top, matching. 

The store guy said the twist meant infinity, and when I just blinked at him, he said that meant _forever._

I liked that. They were like… a partner thing. We were partners, right? So I bought them.

It wasn't until I made it half-way home with the box heavy in my pocket that all the consequences for the decision I’d just made started to settle in.

**Shouyou**

The last thing I expected was for the alien to start crying. He’s slouched off of me, onto the floor, biting his lip so hard, it’s going white under his teeth, and squeezing his eyes shut like, maybe, if he scrunches his face enough, he can keep back tears. His nose makes a pain-pinched shape as he grinds out, “Look. I just. Saw them. And. I didn’t think–”

“–stop already!” I’ve had enough of his tricks. Hugging the shoebox to my chest, I straighten up in my best impression of intimidating. “Who are you, and where is Tobio!”

He freezes mid sob. Then blinks. Rubs his face. Stares.

**Tobio**

Did he just ask me what I think he asked me?

Shouyou’s scrambling up onto his knees, and his sweaty, naked skin rubs a squeak against the over-shiny fake floor.

My throat is hot, my eyes are wet, my sweat is drying itchy on my skin, and my bloody nose tastes a lot like I’ve been sucking on a mouthful of coins– No way, that’s not what he said, right? I’ve got to be losing my mind– 

“You can’t hide your alien secrets from me!”

My mind is sputtering out. Is this asshole screwing with me? “W-wha–”

He sneers and goes for the lid of the shoebox.

**Shouyou**

Inside the box... is another box—which is probably some sort of trap, except the second box is one of those little velvet square types that’s a sort of silvery blue.

Doubt twists in my stomach. I glance over at the alien. He’s gone all noodly on the floor, hiding his head in the bend of his arms with a low, strangled sound, like I’ve drained all his fight out through that nosebleed. Guess he’s not a threat anymore. I open this box too, and inside are… rings? 

Two rings.

The hair on my arms raises.

"Are you happy now?" he grumbles, not lifting his head from his arms.

"Um..."

"What?" he snaps. "Done playing games?"

Running the pad of my thumb over one of the silver bands, I frown. “Are these like… body-snatching rings?”

**Tobio**

I take it back. I haven’t lost my mind. Shouyou has. 

The blanket is half torn off the bed, lying bunched up between us. Both of our pillows are splayed out on the floor. Our apartment looks like a battleground. 

We’re beyond late for our routine at the gym. There’s so much light coming in through the window, the rings are actually glistening like something out of a television ad. 

Can’t he fucking see they’re engagement rings? “Open your eyes, stupid...” 

A vein is twitching over his eyebrow, and the roll of duct tape is still hanging off the top of his head. “What’s an alien imposter got to do with some fancy rings?”

“I already told _you_ , I’m not an alien!”

“That’s exactly what an alien would say!”

I pull on the roots of my hair. Holy fuck. “How am I supposed to prove I’m myself? It’s not like I’ve ever been anyone else.”

**Shouyou**

He’s got a point, actually. “You could… uh…” I bite my lip. Wait, no, I've got it! “Tell me something only Tobio would know about me.”

“You’re crap at sets,” he says, pulling himself up to sit, which isn’t true at all—my sets are way better than other spikers!

“Hey! I’m not–”

“–and you need to work on your spike power.”

“I _said_ , tell me something only Tobio would know!” I snarl, shaking a fist at him. “Anyone would know that stuff!”

“Tch. Yeah, right.” He presses his knuckles into his eyelids and exhales. “Third year, after we lost to Itachiyama, you cried into my shirt on the ride back. You wouldn’t let go of me when we got to school, so I took you home, and you held onto me all night—”

(He’s going and going, and yeah, I remember that night too—obviously. Licking your wounds over a loss like that while holding the guy you love but gave up confessing to since there was zero chance he’d be into you is not the kind of thing you forget.)

“—and I thought that was good cause it was our last game, and everything was over, and you were going away and I–” he stops, throat bobbing, flicks his eyes up at me and then to his feet. “And!” he balls his fists in his lap, voice suddenly hard, “You always lose at Among Us, so I don’t know why you think you've got anything figured out. I mean, you suck at–”

“Shut up!” I shout as loud as I can cause he’s doing that thing. The thing where Tobio starts to get all honest and emotional, but gets scared and tries to back out of it by calling me names. And it’s so much like him, I can’t– I’m panting, squeezing my eyes close. But... “I-I thought– You’re Tobio?”

**Tobio**

I think Shouyou’s stupidity might actually kill me one day. “Yes, you stupid fucking, dumbass. _I’m_ Tobio.”

“B-but, you’ve been all weird–” 

“You’re the one who’s being weird!”

“No!” He stabs me in the chest with his finger. “The sleeping! The shirt! The waking up!”

“You’re the one trying to sneak away from me in the middle of the night.” Of course, I go after him. I told you before, a drop in temperature means something is wrong. Before I know it I'm already blinking awake to find him.

His teeth are smashed together so tight his chin is rumpled in like a sponge. “You never used to move in your sleep! Now I get out of bed, and you’re up. Or I move to the edge of the bed, and you’re there!”

“I’ve been stressed, okay!”

“That doesn’t explain anything! Tell me the truth!” He jumps at me, kneeing me in the thigh as he grabs me by the throat, and I– Fuck, no– I can’t breathe–

“Ack! Gah, alright, fuck, _alright!_ It's you, okay? It's fucking you! I can't sleep unless you’re there anymore.”

**Shouyou**

That… can’t be it... Can it?

The alien has been pulling at Tobio’s hair so hard, it’s gone all floofy. Or, has it just been Tobio, pulling at his own hair… He does that sometimes… “You’re my Tobio...” I say again, still trying to get used to this sudden shift.

**Tobio**

_His,_ huh? 

I sigh. 

Well, he’s not wrong. I nod.

**Shouyou**

This is bad.

Tobio’s shoulders are all slumped down, and he’s got this depressed look on his face like I’ve slugged him right in the heart. 

“I know I'm mean and weird and somethings wrong with me–”

I hate it when he talks about himself that way. “Nothings wrong with you–”

“Listen!” he demands. “I know all that stuff, but I _swear_ I’ll l-love you.”

“You…” I blink once, twice—glancing down at the rings, then back at him, then back at the rings– “Wait! You want to get married?”

He groans, covering his face.

But, that’s crazy, we can’t– We've only been living together a few months– What about when pre-season starts? “We have volleyball– And next season! I’m gonna have to move back to Osaka, I can’t even stay here, and you want t-to–”

“We can take the bullet train on the weekends,” he mumbles with a shrug. “Like, visit and stuff.”

“Tobio,” I say gently. He looks so fragile right now. I don’t want to break him. “That’s expensive.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I make enough now. I can pay for your tickets if it’s too much.”

No way. He doesn’t even splurge on his favorite brand of milk, and he wants to buy my tickets? My trip here cost fifteen thousand yen, and that was just one way! I mean, sure, yeah, Tobio does make a lot—playing in the Olympics and getting tons of sponsorships will do that—but this is… And it’s like he’s already decided it all for himself—sitting under me, watching, waiting, lips pressed together... How long has he been thinking about this? "Wait! Is this what you’ve been stressing over? The rings?”

Tobio flinches, avoiding my eyes. “Look, I don’t care about the money.”

“I can see _that."_ Plucking the rings out of the box, I turn them in my palm. I can’t help the little burst of warmth in my belly at the thought that of all things he could spend on, he picks something for me. "What’d these even cost? They look so _fwah._ ”

“None of your business," he grumbles, face flushing. "Anyway, I get it. It's too early. Just say you'll come on the train. I want… I want to be together as much as possible.”

He wants to be together. Together. _Together!_

Heat seeps wet at the corners of my eyes, my cheeks, the roots of my hair. I won’t have to wait out half the year away from him. I can see him all the time... 

God, what am I doing? Why am I crying? He must think this isn’t what I want, that I’m saying no, and it’s gonna bring up all that broody stuff inside him. I can’t believe I messed this up so bad. 

I’ve gotta do something– Can’t leave him feeling like this.

**Tobio**

Shouyou sniffs, scrubbing an arm over his wet eyes—a sweaty, naked, teary mess. This close, he smells like sleep—the way warmth smells, but better.

I swipe his hand away and dab his face with the end of my t-shirt. Streaks of light from the window are blazing over his wet cheeks like he might as well be glowing from the inside. Is that normal? 

“ _Tobio_ ,” he says, stuffing his nose into my neck, rubbing snot all over my skin. “Will you, um... marry me?”

My lungs have stopped working. I can’t breathe. “I-idiot, you can’t propose with someone else's rings.”

“Too bad!”—he hiccups, abs twitching—“I a-already did. What’s— _hic_ —your answer!”

What the fuck else does he think I’ll say but– “Yes! Okay? Yes, I'll marry you.” I pull him against me tighter. “Stop crying!”

He stiffens in my arms, one hand bunched in my shirt. “Oh.” He sucks in a breath, wiping his nose. “Wow. Really?”

That’s about what I’m thinking. My mouth tastes like blood, and my head is throbbing where he kicked me, but holy shit, I think we just got engaged. 

**Shouyou**

I want to stay like this in the sun, crumpled together, Tobio's heart racing against mine—but I don't think he can handle staying still to let himself feel it.

He yanks at the duct tape stuck in my hair, and we end up back on the floor, violently wrestling in the blanket that’s somehow all the way off the bed now as I wrench away from his wild grabs. 

Just when I think I’ve jerked out of his grip, Tobio snags me by the neck and snatches the last bit free with a shout. (My shout. Cause that was way rougher than necessary.)

I don’t know what’s more of a shock to my system, the rip of pain as the duct tape tears my hair out or the fact that Tobio and I just decided to get married. Is it too early to call Mom and Natsu?

Later, when we’re crawling into bed for the night, Tobio keeps his socks on. He couldn’t be more of a grandfather.

I wiggle in close to him and push his bangs back so I can bump a kiss against his forehead. It’s so big without his bangs covering it. I bet that's why he grew them out this far. Or Miwa forced him after that one bad cut. Ha. His one attempt at fashion—a hard fail.

Now his forehead is all covered up during the day, and the only one that gets to see it is me—which is exactly how it should’ve been from the beginning if you ask me.

Tonight, the only sound in the apartment is the rhythm of our breathing. He’s different now, even from how he was this morning. Like everything winding him tight has finally unspun. 

I guess I was right, in a way, thinking an imposter had him all trapped inside, suffering. He was suffering. Just not how I thought.

“So basically,” I say, kissing a path over Tobio’s eyebrow, “you weren't sleeping right cause you were stressing over these rings?" I hold our hands up where they're folded together with our matching bands. "You were stressed cause you thought I would say no, and you really _really_ need me, yeah?” 

He twitches against me. “No.”

“ _Liar._ ”

“Fine.” He huffs. “Yeah, that's what I'm saying.”

Affection bubbles in my chest. I tackle Tobio back against the bed, crooking our noses together, smooshing my lips to his to say, “I need you too.”

**Tobio**

There are a million sounds around us—a pipe in the wall is droning, and the floors are creaking as the apartment cools down for the night and the wood flexes.

Shouyou’s got my head trapped between his palms. “What are the squiggles on the top of the rings supposed to be?” 

“Forever. They mean forever.”

A grin breaks slowly open on his face. “It’s cause I almost made it to the Olympics with you, right? Time to like, renew our promise?”

“Those aren’t the same thing at all.”

“They are! It’s like a promise to stick together and keep playing against each other and stuff.” 

Is he planning to beat me at being married?

“They’re totally the same,” he says, dragging his teeth against my bottom, catching me in a kiss that leaves my mouth bruised. 

It’s like he thinks if he kisses me hard enough, I’ll have to admit he’s right. 

“You probably–” He nips at my lip. “Should’ve asked me–” Nip. Nip.

It’s hard to think past his tongue licking into my mouth.

“In middle school–”

I chase his lips as he pulls back again.

“Save some time.” 

He needs to be stopped. I grab him by the jaw to keep him from breaking away. 

Shouyou’s thighs are thick and heavy, squeezing around me like a damn koala—though, there's nothing soft and fluffy about him.

“I hate you,” I mumble between his lips.

“Mmm, no, you don't.”

…No, I don't.

He must see the truth in my face cause his slides into a cheeky grin. And I’ve got that look memorized—eyes lidded, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. It means we’re nowhere near going to sleep.

I know I’m right the second he swoops back down—pressing our mouths together, pressing our bodies together. Maybe we’ve only been dating since he moved back to Japan, but I’ve loved him way longer than that, so no one can tell me I don’t get how my boyfriend works. Or, actually, my fiance now, all of a sudden. 

Even crazier, that means one day he’ll be my husband.

Forever...

It feels a little like I’m not awake. Like it’s not real. That if I go to sleep, things might be different in the morning. But Shouyou is a tight, reassuring squeeze. Not a single millimeter of him isn’t carved with muscle, and he’s all against me—real as the ache in my nose, as the heat he’s drawing down my neck with the pads of his fingers, grazing down my stomach, lower, lower–

Fuck. Who needs sleep anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> These two probably shouldn’t share this engagement story with anyone if they want to keep their pride.
> 
> Also, yes, I’m aware gay marriage is not legal in Japan yet. (I better see the day that it is!) I pushed forward with this plot because KageHina deserve everything, and I don't give a damn about some backward law—I’m giving them this happy ending.  
> If you enjoyed this fic, you can check out my last most recent post-time skip fic—[Butcher with a Smile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792806)—that takes place during the Olympic arc.
> 
> Come chat with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lezblowshitup/status/1335238472752386053)! I’m always looking for more KageHina-lover friends.
> 
> Here are all my [links](https://lezblowshtup.carrd.co/) :)


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